


Sweet Cravings

by TheseFaultyStars



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Masturbation, Other, PWP, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseFaultyStars/pseuds/TheseFaultyStars
Summary: Because sometimes, the tension just builds up inside you, and there's only one way to release it





	Sweet Cravings

   He shouldn't be here; it was late, far later than most people would stay, with the other members having left practice hours ago; probably all being asleep in bed by now, with how exhausted they had all been. And yet, Jongin was still in the SM building, in a dance studio to be precise, music blasting- not like anyone else could hear it, anyway- from the many speakers in the room. Somehow, even though he was just as worn out from practice as everyone else, he had managed to stay dancing even after the others had left (probably out of sheer stubbornness, as well as a drive for perfection), his body following the music so naturally that to others, it would look as though it were easy for him to do so, but that could not be further from the truth. Really, by now he was running largely on adrenaline and frustration, and the main reason that he was still dancing in the first place was to get rid of his frustration; at a lot of things really, but mostly at himself. Nothing he did recently felt like it was good enough; and right now, that included his dancing.

 

   Even though he was completing the moves to Exo's songs in such a way that anyone else would be satisfied with the results, for Jongin, it just wasn't //good enough//. His moves weren't sharp enough, fluid enough, just not ///enough///. Over time, though, he manages to dance himself to a point where he is struggling to follow the beat, and even stumbling now and then, body covered in a sheen of sweet, which makes the sweatpants he's wearing feel hotter and heavier than they really are, his loose wife beater clinging to him so his well-defined abdominal features are clearly visible through the thin, light coloured fabric. But he keeps going, even after the music stops, breathing heavier than it should be, and all the muscles in his body screaming at him for mercy; giving in eventually, when in one instance where his legs give way beneath him, he simply cannot pull himself back up, slumping down in front of the mirror he'd been watching himself in. His eyes meet those of his own reflection, and that same frustration is still there, along with disappointment, because this is //not// good enough; he can't even move properly now because he's so worn out, and he doesn't feel any better than he did before the others left.

 

   Watching himself in the mirror, chest heaving, body sweaty and his hair stuck to his forehead, he finds himself wondering what Sehun would say, if he were here; and no sooner has the thought entered his head, but he can hear Sehun's voice saying (in a very demanding tone) "fuck me up", a short bark of amusement escaping Jongin at how clearly he can hear his boyfriend's voice, imagine the way he would come to Jongin and be on his lap in moments, his body naturally fitting in with Jongin's as his demand turned physical, eyes sultry and lips making their case with ease, sharing filthy words and sweet kisses that would soon lead to so much more. Straightening up and shuffling around a bit so he's kneeling about a foot away from the mirror, legs spread out with his hands settled on his thighs, Jongin takes a few moments to simply look at his reflection in the glass. Honestly, he does kind of look like he's just had sex, with how fucked up his appearance is, and again, Sehun's voice enters his head, telling him that if he was there, he would look so much more fucked up. This time though, the thought emits not a laugh but a groan, as Jongin's imagination turns to the kinds of things he would have spent the past hours doing were Sehun here, his mind's eye covering the mirror in cum, sweat, and the breath of two lovers who have been fucking against the glass, Sehun's moans and pleas filling his ears even though he isn't there.

 

   Jongin has always had a vivid imagination, and the images and sounds that it is coming up with right now have all his blood rushing down south, his cock stirring and starting to harden in his pants. Biting down on his bottom lip, his fingers dig into his thighs for a moment, before slowly sliding up, nearing his crotch but avoiding it at the last moment, and another low groan leaves Jongin's lips as they continue over his hipbones, dragging up his tee shirt as they slide up his chest, revealing his toned body little by little, in a way that would have fangirls screaming for more. They circle slowly over dusky nipples, and Jongin's head falls back as his mouth falls open, releasing a loud, shameless moan; the strange mix of exhaustion, adrenaline come down, and growing arousal that fills him leaving his body more sensitive than it usually is. He presses down on the nubs, continuing to move his fingers languidly, despite how quickly he's becoming aroused; he /has/, after all, always liked teasing and pushing limits, and it's no different now, even with himself. When he's starting to feel like he'll go crazy with just the current level of stimulation, he drags a nail over one nipple, gripping and twisting it as his other hand moves back down, running over the outline of his growing erection. Eyes shut and head thrown back, a series of moans spilling from his lips, his hand teases over his clothed cock, squeezing now and then, each squeeze causing his breath to hitch, and more blood to rush between his legs.

 

   But soon, that's not enough, either, and so Jongin finds himself stopping his actions completely, inhaling deeply to calm himself, his hands moving beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down off his hips along with his boxers- hardly noticing that his phone falls out as he does so, the clattering sound it makes as it hits the floor not really registering in his mind- leaving his ass half uncovered, and releasing his almost fully hardened cock from its restraints. 'Junior', as he half jokingly and very fondly refers to it (mostly when he's with Sehun, it being something of an inside joke between the two), springs free as soon as the boxers are down, and despite the relief at having his cock freed, a soft hiss escapes the tanned male's lips, caused by the cold air that hits his erection once his boxers are no longer protecting it. But Jongin is a masochist, so despite the fact that junior is begging for attention, and being assaulted by the frigid air of the studio, he stands on his knees and simply looks at himself in the mirror, eyes scanning over his appearance, taking in every detail.

 

   His hair is a mess, its brown colour darkened with sweat, parts stuck to his forehead like he's just finished running a marathon; one hand lifting to run through the dampened strands and push them back as soon as he makes this observation. His eyes are lidded with tiredness and lust, pupils blown wide despite how bright the lighting in here is, plump lips slightly parted as he takes shaky breaths, tongue darting out every now and then to run over the soft couplets, trying to get rid of the dryness there. Droplets of sweat collect in the hollow of his collarbones, and meander down his chest, beneath the fabric of what was a clean white tank top just a few hours ago, now drenched and revealing even more than the flimsy material had when it was put on; his nipples are clearly visible, even now that he no longer has the top pulled up, and his eyes can easily trace his muscle lines down along his torso, to where they peek out from under the shirt. Gaze continuing down, Jongin's teeth sink into his (somehow still chapped) bottom lip, a low noise emitting from the back of his throat as he eyes his own cock, which hangs hard and heavy midair, its colour slightly darker than the rest of his tanned skin. His eyes can easily follow the veins that run along the shaft, and in so doing his gaze lands on the head of his cock, foreskin naturally having pulled back as his arousal grew so most of the head is revealed; in his current state of arousal the exposed head has turned red (rather than its usual, pinkish colour), its tip glistening with precum.

 

   Lifting one hand from his side, where they had dropped when he decided simply looking was better than touching (it wasn't, it was torture), his fingers splay out against his stomach, thumb settled just above his belly button, inhaling slowly, deeply, before breathing out just as gradually, feeling his own muscles flex beneath his fingers as he does so. He's resisting the urge to go faster than this, to give in to temptation, follow what his body wants, and stop torturing himself the way he does. It would mean he'd get his release sooner, but also that things would be over so much more quickly; and where was the fun in that? So he waits a few moments more, taking deep breaths in, out, in out, hearing the shaky quality of his breath, watching his chest rise and fall with each inhale and exhale, feeling the way his stomach muscles tense as the exhales cause his hand to drop the smallest amount, seeing how his length twitches with anticipation. After some time, his pinkie finger brushes against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and a breathy sound almost resembling a whimper escapes him, so he pauses again, tongue peeking out to trace over his dry lips before continuing. Turning his hand so that the tips of his fingers settle against his pubes, he curls them slowly, the touch feather light, but enough that his hips jerk forward a fraction, breath hitching as he traces his digits back and forth through the trimmed hairs.

 

   Somehow, the feeling of soft, ticklish pleasure his actions cause, and how it isn't anywhere near enough for his current level of arousal, just seems to add to Jongin's desire to continue curling and uncurling his fingers, and watching his cock twitch almost impatiently. But all things must end, and so Jongin loses his interest in this teasing, lowering his hand the short distance to the base of his cock, loosely wrapping long, slender fingers around the shaft. Biting down harshly on his lower lip to try and stop any noise from escaping, his brows furrow in concentration as he ever so slowly moves his hand in that first stroking motion, eyelids fluttering at the pleasure of that simple action; and if his teeth weren't sunk down into his lip, the moan that managed to escape would have been far louder. He traces his index finger around the head in circles which gradually grow smaller in size, until he is pressing the pad of his finger against his slit, eyes falling shut now, and his head falling back as a soft hiss of pleasure escapes him; the sensation caused by that small action intense enough that a shudder runs through his entire body, and his expression twists for a moment, before Jongin has it back under control, features returning to an almost neutral expression, though his eyes remain shut.

 

   Staying like that for what is probably longer than truly necessary, Jongin wills his hips to stay still, as they shift into the touch of his own fingers; both the one that rests against his slit, and those that are still curled around his shaft. This is even more torturous than his previous actions, as the feeling of his finger increasing and decreasing the pressure placed against his tip is both too much and still not enough, making his body crave for more, but his mind keeps saying no, have patience, //take your time//. So it isn't until he manages to stop the small movements of his hips that Jongin decides to allow himself to keep going; opening his eyes first, meeting his own gaze in the mirror, and smirking at his reflection, and of course it smirks back, as though they share a secret, or a sin- or perhaps it is both, because what Jongin is doing now is something that most people would say is simply sinful, and the quiet that fills the room, the //building//, is broken by nothing other than Jongin's own, irregular breathing, meaning he is completely alone; no others to disturb nor learn of what he is doing right now.

 

   Now that he has himself back under control, Jongin drags his finger along his slit, gathering the pre-come that has collected there; gritting his teeth as he once more has to force his hips not to move, muscles clenching even more tightly than his teeth. A low snarl forms in the back of his throat as his head falls forward again, but he suppresses the sound- not without some struggle, but he manages it. Digging his nail into the slit, he can't help but to inhale sharply, telling himself again to stay calm as he slides his index finger down to rest beneath his tip, thumb moving to press down against the top, and squeezing so that more precum can escape; accumulating before dripping down in small beads, onto tanned fingers that shift to allow the clear liquid to flow onto them. Once a satisfactory amount of precum has spilled onto his fingers, they again wrap around his shaft, grip more firm this time than the last, the slide down easier now that there's some lubrication involved; the resulting moan louder still, since he's no longer biting down on his lips, and the sound is made freely, thoughtlessly, leaving lips that are bitten and abused, reddened from the amount of abuse they have already received, being further darkened as sharp teeth quickly and harshly sink down into them- not quite hard enough to draw blood, but enough to bring pain.

 

   Tugging his cock in slow, practiced movements, Jongin starts to settle into a familiar pattern, not needing to exert quite so much effort to keep his pace slow, his breathing starting to come in heavy but regular intervals, eyes falling shut as he allows himself to relax and immerse himself into pleasure. Behind his lids is tinted red due to the brightness of the room he's in, but the reduced visual stimulation only means he can focus on his other senses, instead of his sense of sight. He can hear the low sound of each deliberate inhale and exhale, punctured occasionally by small hitches, and frequently by soft moans and sighs of pleasure, the noise echoed back at him by the mirrored walls, the only audience he has right now, the only other sounds in the room that of the faint static the speakers are making, never having been turned off once the music stopped playing earlier, and the wet sound of his tongue flicking over his lips every now and then, once more dampening them with saliva.

 

   He feels the chill air of the room against the exposed parts of his feverish skin, but instead of being startling, as it was when he first removed his clothing, the feeling is soothing, calming, unlike the hot touch of his hand curled around his cock, which only causes a knot to form in his stomach, muscles flexing repeatedly as he tenses up and manages to relax again, and he knows the way his muscles tense would be barely visible even if his eyes were open, but the slow rise and fall of his chest would be easy to see; somewhat ironic, given that the feeling in his stomach is so much more attention grabbing. When he moves his free hand from where it had come to rest on his thigh to instead place itself flat against his stomach, he can feel the heat that seems to radiate from his lower body, becoming trapped between the toned lines of his abdomen and the calloused skin of lazy fingers that occasionally shift and curl just enough so that blunt nails drag over firm muscles. But his main focus is on the feeling of the hand that moves at an unhurried pace, the same roughness that rests against his stomach dragging over the pleasant softness that envelops his cock, each flick of his wrist causing the skin to shift and pull more moans from his bruised lips. As his fingers glide along the length of his shaft, they occasionally adjust themselves around it, grip loosening and tightening at random intervals, so that his moans increase not only in frequency but volume, his hand starting to pick up its pace, hips joining in as they start rutting forward, Jongin's self control starting to slip.

 

   It's not long after that until the void caused by the lack of actual visual imagery is filled in by Jongin's imagination, placing his boyfriend, Sehun, into the room with him. Sehun knows Jongin- and his body- well, as well as Jongin himself even, so he'd know exactly what to do, to drive Jongin crazy, know what he wants to hear, what he wants Sehun to do, and how to get what he wants from the tanned male. If he were here, he'd be on his knees before Jongin, and Jongin's spare hand would be placed not on his stomach but in Sehun's hair, fingers burying themselves into soft strands as those brown eyes he's come to love so much look up at him with a mixture of submission and desire filling them, contrary to the demands that would spill from his soft pink lips. He'd ask for permission to suck Jongin off, of course, and he would receive it, too; and if he didn't, his head would tilt just so, his tone light and almost as though he were simply commenting on the weather, to tell Jongin that he can't deny that he wants it, wants Sehun's lips wrapped around his cock, because //junior// is saying yes, and junior doesn't lie (he doesn't know how, but that's not the point). Being further denied of what he wants would only mean having Sehun's tongue peek out to circle over junior's tip, flicking against the slit as the look in his eyes turned sultry, Jongin's reprimand undoubtedly met with a taunting reply of "you didn't say anything, about my tongue, ///daddy///", the younger male knowing just what that rarely used title did to Jongin, and saving it for that exact reason; using it only to taunt his boyfriend, when he wants to be teased and handled roughly, or to be fucked extra hard.

 

   It would work, too. Jongin's eyes would narrow, of course, but his lips would soon curl into a smirk, a soft murmur of "if you want it so bad, then open up" being heard, Sehun's lips obediently and eagerly parting now that things were going his way, Jongin's hand holding Sehun's head in place as he runs the tip of his cock along his lips, moans being heard from both of them as he did so. His grip on Sehun's hair would tighten as he guided his cock past his lips; letting him do as he pleased at first, happily licking and sucking Jongin's cock like the //good little cock sucker// Jongin would make sure to tell him he was. It wouldn't be long, though, before Jongin was taking over, both hands moving to grip onto his boyfriend's hair as he started to press his length further and further into the other's mouth, pushing and testing limits although he knows it's nowhere near the first time Sehun has done this, and it's certainly not the first time it's been //Jongin's// cock that was filling his mouth, that he was being made to deep throat. He still liked to be gentle, though, in his own way, making sure to take his time easing himself in, until his entire cock was buried in Sehun's mouth, those pretty lips stretching oh so wonderfully well around the length. He'd tell him that, too, tell him how good, how pretty he looks with his lips wrapped around //daddy's cock//, tell him to be a good boy and relax, even though his actions wouldn't exactly follow his words, as he started to slowly fuck the younger boy's mouth, the grip he kept on his hair making sure that although he could squirm and moan as much as he wanted, he wouldn't be able to move away (though somehow, Jongin doubts that he would).

 

   Every thrust of Jongin's hips would be met by small whimpers and moans, Sehun looking up at him with eyes that were so deceptively innocent looking, as though he didn't know what he was supposed to do. It was a total lie, and they both knew that, because even as his eyes said I don't know what I'm doing, his tongue would move as best it could to trace the veins on the underside of Jongin's cock, cheeks hollowing as he sucked enthusiastically on the length, eyelids fluttering as he moaned around it. His fingers move to cup Jongin's balls, instead of ignoring them the way Jongin always seems to, rubbing and squeezing them carefully, and in just the right way to leave Jongin's mind in a haze. Sooner or later, Jongin's composure would start to slip, his breath growing heavier as he started fucking Sehun's mouth harder and harder, their moans echoing each other as they grew louder and louder, curses and moans of Sehun's name starting to spill from Jongin's lips like there was no tomorrow, and they'd both know that that gradual loss of control meant that his orgasm was approaching. Jongin could perfectly see the glint that would appear in Sehun's eyes, showing how pleased he was with himself, and how eagerly he was anticipating what came next, wanting to have Jongin's cum filling his mouth and sliding down his throat, something that he used to frequently taunt Jongin with, and the mere thought of how he would beg for Jongin's cum (were his mouth not otherwise occupied) has a loud moan leaving Jongin's lips, quickly followed by yet another swear word.

 

   He hasn't noticed, preoccupied as he is with thoughts of Sehun, that he really is moaning and cursing as loudly as he has been, that his control over his body has completely vanished, hips thrusting and fucking into the ring his fingers are curled into, the pace of his hand urgent and chasing his impending orgasm, stomach tensing as he grows closer and closer to the edge. It's not until his hand moves as though to grip Sehun's chin, meeting nothing but empty air, that Jongin realises what had happened, what he'd //let// happen, his eyes flying open as the moan leaving him is interrupted by a loud gasp, his hand lifting to instead slam against the mirror in front of him as his actions come to a complete stop. Bringing his forehead to rest against the glass, Jongin looks at his reflection again, and if he thought his appearance was messed up earlier, it was doubly so now; his hair completely stuck to his forehead with sweat, his entire body glistening beneath a layer of sweat, although his lips are slick with blood (when had that happened?), eye half lidded and fully out of it, pupils so wide his irises are almost completely invisible. His wife beater by now is more sweat than clothing, and he leans back away from the mirror to pull it off, grabbing the hem and lifting the article over his head, dropping it to one side, and noticing his phone on the ground. He frowns upon seeing the device, wondering when it had dropped out of his back pocket, but shrugging since it doesn't really matter anyway, reaching down to pick it up, and turning back to the mirror.

 

   Phone in hand now, as his eyes do a quick scan of his dishevelled appearance, the thought occurs to him that he should probably take a picture, and send it to Sehun. Maybe he'd focus in on //junior//, whose head is now an angry red; the colour tracing down his length and slowly fading back into its usual dark colour, veins standing out against the skin, and he can almost //see// the blood pumping through them- he can definitely feel it, anyway. But then again, he probably shouldn't send Sehun a picture; it wouldn't be a first, but somehow he didn't feel like it was a good idea, and Sehun had enough photos of his dick, anyway. Truth be told, if anyone ever got hold of either of their phones, they'd both be screwed, with the amount of videos, pictures, and audio recordings they each had on them. He decides to call Sehun instead, figuring he'll be asleep, phone hopefully set to silent, and he can leave him a nice little message for when he wakes up. Lips curling into a devious smirk once the idea forms in his mind, he holds his phone in one hand and unlocks the device, the other hand wrapping around his length again, starting to move slowly, soft moans starting to leave his lips.

 

   The hand holding his phone dials Sehun's number automatically, Jongin having long since learned the number off, waiting until it rings out, and the recorded message is played, the beep that follows it mixed with one of Jongin's moans, that being the first sound Sehun will hear when he plays back this voicemail, and the thought is oddly pleasing to Jongin. He runs his tongue over his lips, swiping away the blood there before speaking, and although he doesn't stammer his words come out shaky, his voice coming out lower than it usually is, but the tone is pleasantly husky. "Hey, baby boy- I was just thinking about you. Well-" here he laughs, looking down at his cock before continuing, a hint of amusement entering his voice, "junior and I were thinking about you, and let's just say there are some mirrors that are going to get defiled pretty soon." His original plan was to say something incredibly filthy, but those words and the moans they mingle amongst will be enough to get Sehun riled up, another laugh leaving Jongin's lips because he //knows// Sehun, and he knows that his mind is just as perverted as Jongin's is, and more than well capable of imagining what he's been doing.

 

   His expression softens into one of fondness as he imagines Sehun's sleepy, just woke up face, his hair messed up from his pillow and probably only in his underwear, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning as he checks his phone. He'd probably grumble at the time, complaining that it was "way too early" to be up, and roll back over to sleep some more, but sit up once he realised Jongin wasn't there, and reach for his phone again. He'd probably be worried, unless he thought that Jongin was in his own bed, but he was Sehun, so he'd be way too lazy to get out of bed and check, instead looking through his missed calls and seeing one from Jongin, worry changing to something else once he listened to the message that had been left. Jongin's voice is softer when he speaks again, knowing that there's no more than a few seconds left for him to record a message. "I hope you're sleeping well. I love you, Sehun-ah."

 

   After that last part, he hangs up, not wanting to hear the unpleasant beeping sound that signals the end of the message, dropping his phone down on top of his tank top then. Once done, the speed of his hand increases, Jongin being too tired now to tease himself, and much too close to orgasm for that, anyway. Letting go completely, he shuts his eyes and lets himself simply enjoy the pleasure of the hand that's wrapped around his cock, although he would much prefer if it were Sehun's mouth he was fucking, instead of using his own hand to get off. It doesn't take long, though, until he feels that familiar tightening sensation in his balls, telling him that he's not far off, and it only takes one, two, three more strokes until he orgasms, and a loud moan of Sehun's name leaves him as he comes, cum shooting out and covering the mirror. Riding out his orgasm, Jongin gradually slows the movements of both his hips and his hand before they come completely to a still, uncurling his fingers from around his length, and opening his eyes. His lips show a pleased smile upon seeing the mess he's made of the mirror, not only with the cum that has defiled the lower half (as he promised Sehun he would), but higher up the glass has been fogged up with his breath- although that's quickly dispersing- and there's even a small damp patch from when his forehead had been pressed up against the glass.

 

   Now that he's finished, Jongin is just //way too tired// to even try and clean up after himself. He knows from past experience with Sehun that within the next half an hour or so, his cum will start to turn clear and runny, and eventually all the evidence that will be left on the glass is a faint sticky residue. The evidence in the room, however, will be a different story, because in addition to being too tired to clean up, Jongin is too tired to even move from where he is. He barely even manages to pull up his underwear and sweats, fixing his cock inside his boxers before slumping down, twisting his body in such a way so that ends up with one shoulder pressed against the mirror he'd just came on, face almost right beside the streaks of cum he'd left, and his legs stretched out before him. Picking up his phone, Jongin has to unlock it again, so that he can open up the camera, turning it to self camera mode, and lifting it up to take a picture of his current appearance to send to Sehun. Smiling sleepily at the camera, one of his eyes falls shut as he adjusts the angle until the screen shows the cum on the mirror, as well as the upper half of Jongin's body. Hitting the button to take a picture, he goes into messages and sends the picture to Sehun, followed by a few texts.

 

   [ sms: Mine <3 <] [Image attachment]  
   [ sms: Mine <3 <] Hey babe. We're going to sleep now, so see you tomorrow.  
   [ sms: Mine <3 <] Well, Junior is already asleep, so I'm going to sleep now.  
   [ sms: Mine <3 <] Sleep well, my love.  
   [ sms: Mine <3 <] I love you

 <3

   By the time he's sent the last message, Jongin is already almost asleep, his body slowly sliding down along the mirror until he's slumped on the floor; face barely an inch away from the glass. He smiles at his own reflection, managing a sleepy mumble of "just you and me, buddy" before he yawns, both eyes closing of their own accord. Jongin wiggles around a little, adjusting the way he's laying until he's at least somewhat comfortable- because how comfortable can a floor be- yawning again as his consciousness slips away. His last thought before there are none- which brings a small smile and a breathy laugh- is that he really wishes Sehun were with him, because his butt would make a great pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first post to ao3, and is a cross post from my aff account, the story having originally come from a roleplay thread- I really hope people enjoy this /o\


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